


Open up sesame

by witheredsong



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:37:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witheredsong/pseuds/witheredsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes in the progression of a relationship though our hero was clueless about what was happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open up sesame

Fernando tackles, knows the moment he slides into the Sevilla player with both legs thrown at his calves, that the referee won’t take a kind view of this. He gets up, puts on his best puppy-dog, wide-eyed innocent, conditioned look, and throws up his hands in supplication. The referee brings out the red card. While his other team-mates try to argue with the referee, Gonzalo Higuain, the worm from River, gives him a stern disapproving look. Fernando stomps off to the dressing room, feeling disgusted and murderously angry towards Gonzalo. Ah well. More time to condition his hair.

 

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Some big name 5-star-disco, strobe lights flashing blue and red and bright, Fernando is enjoying himself immensely. He is sandwiched between two beautiful girls, and well, he is Fernando Ruben Gago, el nuovo Redondo, he deserves to enjoy life king-size.

 

However, that bastard is again spoiling his night. Gonzalo insists on being a wall-flower, acting as if he is super-glued to the bar-stool on which he is perched, drinking tonic water. Even the combined persuasive power of Sergio and Iker has failed to pull him off his high seat.

 

But Fernando can do what others can’t. He detaches himself from the houris, and in the determined way only the tremendously drunk can, pulls a startled Gonzalo off the bar-stool and proceeds to wrap himself around him. Gonzalo tries to squirm away. Fernando leans up, blows moist air into Gonzalo’s ear and mutters, “Enjoy this Gonzo, only time you’ll voluntarily get my hands on you.” Gonzalo turns bright red, squeaks, but goes still.

 

The night passes by in a blur. Fernando is blissfully happy, for once.

 

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Such idyllic bliss is very very short-lived however.

 

Morning arrives too early, Fernando wakes up in an unfamiliar room, with his clothes sticking to him in extremely unappealing ways. He smells of weird, banned substance, jackhammers pound in his brain, small viciously pink elephants go marching before his eyes.

 

He wonders if he’s been kidnapped.

 

He runs into the bathroom, throws up, holds his head beneath the sink-tap, and utters 25 ave Marias in penance. Very mean-spiritedly he uses the blue mickey-mouse tooth-brush on the shelf to brush his teeth, and then, feeling utterly miserable, stumbles out of the bedroom into the kitchen. To bravely confront his kidnapper(s).

 

The sight of a bare-chested Gonzalo drinking milk almost shocks him into a manly faint. He recovers enough to notice that El Pipa is in the room as well, frying jamon. Gonzalo smirks at him with a moustache of milk, and el Pipa thumps him on the back so hard he almost falls down.

 

And then, the hangover devil in his head makes him observe out loud that that El Pipa doesn’t really deserve his nickname, his nose is quite alright.

 

The combined laughter of father and son rings out so loud he feels the reverberations resounding like the gong of a very large bell in his skull. When he feels somewhat human after breakfast and Gonzalo deigns to drive him to his apartment, he asks stupidly, “How did I end up here?” He swears, even with his sunglasses on that Gonzalo can rival a tomato.

 

El Pipa says with another booming laugh, “You clung to him and petted his hair and told me in great detail how much he looked like the blue-monster in Sesame Street and how much you’d love to cuddle him.”

 

Fernando’s face is on fire. He decides he should just throw himself into the Manzanares and end his agony.

 

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Fernando is very busy not looking at Gonzalo. He has been very busy doing exactly this for the last 5 days. In fact, since the hour Gonzalo dropped him off at his apartment and into the welcoming scorn of an impatiently waiting Sergio, who tells him that loud confessions of twisted desires of Gonzo-cuddling aside, he had distinguished himself the night before by:

 

Giving Raul a lap dance. And an erection. (Sergio snickers unmercifully when he says this.)  
Kissing Iker. Passionately, enthusiastically, repeatedly. (Sergio tells him there was tongue. He scowls blackly when he says this.)  
Trying to get Metze into a tango. (Sergio is a wee bit wistful)  
One account of stripping and pole-dancing. (To It’s raining men. Sergio details each movement in excruciating detail.)  
Serenading Gonzalo to Yellow polka dot bikini. (Sergio chokes with laughter. Fernando contemplates murder and wonders if he could pass it off as Heimlich maneuver gone wrong.)

 

Fernando locks himself in his bedroom, calls up his mother and clutches his teddy bear tight while she sings lullabies to him.

 

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Fernando is certain the River-spawn has cursed him with voodoo magic. Even his hair is misbehaving. His diamond studs are dull. He feels down and out and trying to apologize to your captain and two other team-mates while the rest of your colleagues are rolling on the dressing room floor with laughter, and a blown up picture of you stripping is adorning the dressing-room wall (he is modest and won’t point out that his hair looks splendid. Also, o horror, did Bernd wink at him at morning training?) isn’t conducive to a happy frame of mind.

 

In fact, he is so busy drowning in self-pity and recriminations, he completely misses the blue-muppet neatly taking the ball from his feet with a trademark tackle and steal move. Precise, controlled, ruthless. Cruel. He is so surprised he falls with a thump hard enough to see stars and all the air is knocked out of him. Bernd sends him to get checked by the physio and he leaves without a backward glance at a hand-wringing, miserable Gonzalo.

 

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He is just back from the physio, with a all-clear chit and a foul temper. He sits on the bench in the dressing room with his head in his hands, for a while. Then he decides to be a man and take his bath (he’s been taking a lot of showers recently), begins removing his shoes and puts his hair up in a bun. He is momentarily blinded as he is pulling off his shirt, so he almost jumps out of his skin when two warm callused palm come to rest on his knees. He emerges from the folds of his sweaty kit to find an earnest Gonzalo kneeling in front of him. He loses all words at the sight.

 

Gonzalo says seriously, “I am so sorry, Fer. I did not want to hurt you. Please….” Fernando tries to stutter out some inanity, but Gonzalo is just looking at him, shy, calm eyes, and so he shuts up. Then the River-spaw…er, just leans into his personal space as if he belongs there, tucks a wayward curl of his hair behind his ears, smiles with those crooked teeth, and then, gently kisses his forehead. Says, laughter and affection in his voice, “And I quite like you too!”, skips out of the room laughing like a loon, mightily pleased at his own dorkiness. Fernando looks at him, smile on his lips, not minding even a little bit that the steam and sweat is curling his hair uncontrollably.


End file.
